by B T Litell
Týr finally, after the seventh bell sounded, let go of Svenka’s hand, stood, then leaned down and pressed his lips firmly against her forehead, a singular tear falling from the crest of his cheek. Before he turned to face the others, he retrieved her knife from beside the mat she was laid on and tucked it into his own belt in the small of his back. With a token to remember Svenka, Týr turned to Joshua and Michael, his voice faint.
“That goat fucker will pay for what he did to my sister. How do we find him again?”
“Master Týr, please watch your words in this temple,” Harold called from the other side of the room.
“Sod off, old man. Sit back and let others fight battles you are better equipped for if you want. That’s fine by me. But don’t sit there and tell us what we are supposed to do,” Týr snapped.
“I have been far more hospitable for you three given what you have done to Erith. Leave now, before I call the guards!”
Before any further confrontations arose between Harold and the trio, they left the temple, which left Harold alone with the rest of the wounded. Outside, guards had gathered to clear out the bodies of the goblins and place them on the various fires that had been built throughout the city. A thick, black smoke and grim aura clung to the city like a wet shirt and accompanied the heavy, harsh smell of burning bodies. A handful of nearby guards stopped to glare, angrily, at the three companions as they moved to the end of the plaza outside the temple. Clearly, word had gotten around, likely from Harold as the guards brought him wounded, about who were being held responsible for the attack. The guards likely didn’t know the entire story behind the attack, or the group of travelers. But like anyone in this situation, a whole story would have only muddled the waters and caused further confusion. It wouldn’t have helped to explain the situation either.
Joshua told Týr and Michael to stay behind and went to speak with the guards. They pointed toward the gate beyond the market, where a half day before Michael and Joshua had met with their counterparts. Týr, Michael thought to himself, must still be processing Svenka’s death, as the man was still quieter than the dead scattered across the city. Joshua returned to the group and they started moving toward the market, snaking their way through the body-littered streets. Despite the fact the battle had ended about ten hours before, there was a lot of work to be done to clean up Erith, and there were only so many guards to be called upon for such an endeavor. In the market area, another fire had been started, close to the city wall. Goblins were piled nearly two meters high, their flesh charred by the flames. The acrid smoke stung the eyes as it wafted on the lazy wind that rippled across the city. A pair of guards ahead dragged a goblin by his ankles toward the fire, despite protesting sounds the creature made. It clearly was still alive, yet it was still headed to the fire all the same. Joshua, seeing this walked over and ordered the guards to kill the goblin before throwing it onto the fire. Michael heard one of the guards ask why they should care if an abomination should suffer a little extra compared to the others.
“You may only see the goblins as monsters, but they are still living beings. It deserves some mercy,” Joshua replied.
“Fuck giving this monster any mercy. Do you know how many people died yesterday because of these things? I don’t care if you’re the King of Drendil, I’m tossing this thing on the pyre and letting it die that way,” the guard replied.
Joshua, his hands behind his back, wiggled his fingers, which briefly flashed white. The guards shook their head gently, a confused look showing on their faces. Joshua once again reminded them to show mercy to the goblins, and one of the guards drew his knife, slitting the goblins throat before tossing it into the fire. Fire flashed around the goblin as it was consumed by the flames. Once again, Joshua rejoined his group and they turned down a side street.
“Why are you so concerned with them showing some monster mercy? Goblins are just the results of some experiments gone wrong. They’re scavengers with little quality of life that provide no utility for anything alive,” Týr wondered. “Don’t tell me your priesthood believes that all living things are valuable and should be given fair lives.”
“As a matter of fact, we are to be kind to all life, no matter how small that life may seem. Throwing a living creature on a fire is not right, Týr, regardless of whether it’s a monster or not. There was a time when goblins were not the feral creatures we know them as today. They became what they are today after the wars when they were almost made extinct by their cruel masters forcing them to fight for a cause they could hardly have understood,” Joshua replied.
“That goblin would have shown you no mercy. You even admitted they are feral beasts. Besides, they are aggressive, violent monsters. No different than a cur that bites a village child,” Týr countered.
“That may be true, but that changes nothing of my principles,” Joshua answered.
“Your principles are going to have to change if we are to kill this Shadow Knight, friend. Will you go soft and let him live because he is a creature that should be shown mercy?” Týr argued.
“The Shadow Knight is different. He is not feral and only exists to cause evil in our world, for whatever reason their race has chosen us as their target. If there is a way to end his threat against, without killing him, I don’t think we should excuse that option. I know you seek revenge for Svenka’s death, but that is not always the answer we should seek,” Joshua countered.
“You’re going to go soft and let him live. Mark my words, priest,” Týr huffed.
Joshua let the argument go before it grew heated. He saw no reason for two people to fight in such a way over something that might happen or not. As they walked in silence, the group turned down a few more side streets until they arrived at a stable. The smell of horses floated heavy in the air, over the smell of the fires and burning flesh, a block away from the stable. The horses inside danced back and forth in their stalls, on edge from the attack the day before. Several stable hands were inside calming the horses, some with better results than others. One of the hands, seeing the three in the doorway, walked over, wiping his hands on his trousers, leaving streaks of dirt from his hands.
“Welcome Master priest. What can I do for you today?” the lead hand asked.
“We’re looking to buy some horses from you. Have you got three for sale?” Joshua asked in turn.
“I’m sorry, master, but the horses we have aren’t for sale at the moment. You could check back in a few days and we might have something available then. There is another stable inside the western gate that you could check with as well,” the hand suggested.
Joshua removed a pouch from his belt and tossed it to the stable hand who looked inside; his eyes widened at the sight of the coins inside. Putting away the pouch, the stable hand whistled at the other hands, made a whirling motion with his hands then motioned for the men to follow him. He pointed out three geldings, one grey with a white smudge on its face, another tan from head to tail, and the third as dark as a moonless night sky. The black horse bore a white patch on its chest and one white hoof, the only color marring its coat. Each horse whinnied, stamped their hooves, and shook their manes, in various order as the three travelers approached.
“We can part with these three, if they suit you,” the hand said, patting the black horse on his neck. He pulled a few carrots from a pouch on his belt and fed them to the horses, which made them each visibly more settled.
“I thought you said there were no horses for sale?” Týr asked, his brow furled as he questioned the sudden change of heart.
“I said that, yes. But the master priest jogged my memory.”
“I won’t allow you to sell us horses that belong to someone else,” Joshua said.
“That won’t be a problem, sir. The stable’s owner, Master Gerald if you know him, has a policy that any horse stabled here can be sold if the owner is behind two months of payments. These three horses are all well over that time but very few people buy horses any more these days. And since you are a
priest, I will throw in the saddles and any other accoutrements that you may need for your journey, sir. Let me know what you need, and we will retrieve it for you,” the stable hand explained.
“That would be incredibly helpful. Thank you,” Joshua replied.
As Joshua, Michael, and Týr picked out their equipment, the stable hands readied the horses quickly, though the creatures were still jittery and excited. Once the horses were ready the travelers mounted their steeds and worked their way to the nearest gate. Because they were still in the city, they could only guide the horses by their reins, especially since the streets were more crowded and cluttered with bodies. This made getting out of the city difficult, even though there was a short distance to travel to the gate and a cleared road.
Outside the city, open fields stretched to the north and east as far as could be seen; hills rolled in the distance. Northeast of the city, barely visible from this distance, copses of trees attempted to form a wood before the trees collected and formed a thick, small forest. This was the same forest that Týr and Svenka had just traveled from in their escape from Lord Dennison and his goonish soldiers. To the south, more plains stretched to the edge of the Erith Bay, a river cutting through the plains toward a quaint village. The river cut south then aggressively north. The village rested in the crook of the river as it gently broke off toward the east into the woods.
Beyond a few hundred meters, no real roads left Erith, though paths had been cut into the grassy plains after years of people wondering to the city, years where horseshoes cut through the grass and into the dirt to form packed down trails that marked the paths of long-forgotten travelers. Several paths cut through the fields, one heading south to the village; bridges had been built over the river to the north and south of the village. A few men gathered along the river; they cast their nets into the rushing water as they hoped to catch fish that swam downstream. As they rode through the countryside, Michael wondered what fish were found in the rivers and lakes of Drendil and how different they were from the fish found in Prikea. Feldring always had lots of pikes with the mountains keeping the water frigid throughout the year. Maybe there were pike in Drendil too. What if the fish were terribly different than his home? Could the Madness be spread through the food? That was a question he neither wanted to ask or to receive and answer to. Especially after that exceptional peppered boar stew.
Herds of deer ran through the grassy plains all around the travelers. They chewed on various plants that couldn’t be seen from horseback and looked up at the men thundering by on their horses before they darted off, jumping through the thick grass. They bounded through the grass with ease, venturing toward safety from the humans, though there was little reason for them to fear. Well, maybe they should fear Týr. The man still scared Michael to a point. He was a thief, after all. He even had admitted that. Michael found it hard to trust him, but if Joshua could, he should as well.
Since they were out in the open, the group let the horses run. They galloped then cantering to ensure the horses didn’t tire too quickly. This process repeated for a few hours. The travelers chewed through leagues of open ground that day before they finally stopped when they reached the river they had seen earlier, after it made another bend northward and met with the forest. Týr, as the group settled down and set up their campfire, looked northward into the tree line with sorrow in his eyes. Joshua cast a spell, which sparked the kindling they had gathered, and ignited furiously. As the fire blazed, and they prepared some food, Týr sat beside the fire and explained the last mission he and Svenka had gone on together. He told in detail, though not too greatly, of the guards and the large man that Svenka had killed. While he told this tale, Týr removed Svenka’s knife from his belt, which was the very knife she had used to slit the man’s throat and checked the blade’s sharpness. As he found it wanting, he removed a whetstone from a small oilskin pouch, sharpened the curved blade of the knife, and checked its edge periodically. Michael, inspired by this, drew his sword and checked its edge, but found his sword was sharp enough. It was at least what he considered sharp enough.
The food cooked quickly on the roaring fire. Joshua divvied out the food to the group; he took less food for himself than he gave to the others. They sat in silence and ate their food, dried fish that Týr and Svenka had purchased the day before and roasted vegetables. Michael found the food filling, though a little bland. The fish, he noticed, was rather salty, perhaps from the drying process. After eating their dinner, the group settled in for the night they would spend under the stars. Nocturnal birds called from the forest, their hoots and screeches dominating the stillness of the night. Týr perked up at one point and threw a few logs on the fire as it began dying down.
“You seem uneasy, Týr,” Joshua noted. At this point, Michael slept soundly with his head laid against his saddle.
“I heard something in the woods that night. It sounded like a dog, but like nothing natural. There is something evil in these woods. I don’t know what evil it is, but it is certainly out there,” Týr replied.
“Madness spreads through the land once more,” Joshua replied. “Get some rest. I will cast a spell to ward off predators.”
Joshua cast a quick spell, and a dome appeared in the air. The dome appeared as a bright white that slowly turned clear as it came down to the ground. Once the dome touched the ground, the sounds of the creatures in the woods faded and the camp turned silent once more. Joshua and Týr fell asleep as the fire picked back up, growing bright as the new logs were consumed by the flames.
As the fire burned through the night, and the wood grew into ashes; the fire popped which sent sparks quickly toward the top of the dome. Columns of smoke rose from the fire, gathering near the top of the dome before dissipating.
Outside the dome, creatures stirred in the woods. One such beast, a mixture of a wolf and a man, with more wolf than man, sat perched in a tree and watched the travelers far below. The beast snarled through its wolfish snout and let loose a brief howl, which two others responded to. Their master would want to learn of the travelers. If only the beasts knew how to contact the dark man from another world.
***
Joshua was the first of the travelers to wake up at the first hints of sunlight in the sky. The sky looked grey as the dark night sky started its exchange with the morning light. Watching the lights change in the sky was like watching an infinitely great battle between good and evil. Times like this, good always won and evil seceded, regathering for the next battle in the dusk, where the forces of light lost to the overwhelming darkness. Joshua sighed, knowing that such things came in waves and never ended, then opened the small book he had been given by Thomas. He found himself longing to study as every spell the book contained. None of the spells were Dark enough to have been banned by any of the orders, though the Herons had gotten so angry at the spells. That remained a perfect reason to Joshua that the priesthood was outdated and needed to adjust to the times. He learned spells that would cast a new type of liquid fire that could consume stones, a spell that would turn a person to stone, like a statue, the dark bolts of lightning that the Shadow Knight had cast, and many others. Tools that might prove useful in their final confrontation with the Shadow Knight. Several of these would come into great use, he felt, studying the spells further.
Michael and Týr woke up shortly after the sun rose over the horizon and threw mighty streaks of red, orange, purple, and yellow through the sky far to the east, driving out the darkness that had been the night sky. Wisps of clouds far overhead captured the colors of the rising sun and reflected them beautifully, which added to the brilliance of the world’s fresh start. Each morning brought a reminder that every day was a new day with a new beginning and that, no matter how dark the times had become, there was always room for hope. Though there were clouds gathering overhead, none of them appeared large enough to be an omen for rain that day. Rain would have slowed their traveling greatly, something none of them could afford at this time.
Týr removed a map from one of the saddlebags his horse had come with and examined it closely. Once Joshua finished his studies of the spell book, the three travelers consulted the map as they considered the best route for them to take to Shemont. It would be a few days of riding before they arrived, and then however many weeks were needed to build trust with the city’s guards and the human King of Drendil. Without that trust, their mission would fair no better than the goblin attack on Erith.
“What do you know of Shemont?” Michael asked, his voice hopeful.
“Nothing. I was born to a thief and have lived as a thief in, and around, these woods. I have heard that Shemont used to be a brilliant, dazzling city before the Wars, though now it is supposedly a shell of what it once resembled. Joshua, is there a way to cast a spell and preview the city, like we did with the goblins and the Shadow Knight?”
“I believe there is a way to see the city and without attracting any unwanted attention like we did before, but I cannot promise as clear of a view as we had with the previous spell. It’s another one I learned from this book, but I’ve never cast it before. I don’t know what might happen if I get the spell wrong. That happens from time to time. Sometimes the results are fine, other times it’s catastrophic. We should prepare to leave before I cast this spell, in case we give away our location again. I would hate to end up having to ride away from goblins, let alone the Shadow Knight himself. Especially since he can travel through portals.”
The group cleaned up their camp site, buried the ashes from their fire the previous night, and readied the horses, all of which had greatly calmed down since leaving Erith. Michael saddled his horse and Týr helped synch the straps around its belly. Once they were done, Michael loaded up his saddlebags with the few things he had taken out of them, then helped Týr get his saddle situated. The saddles were heavy, but they had to be moved such a short distance it was not a burden. The horses stood still as they waited for the saddles to be placed and tightened. They were obviously used to being laden with equipment.
